


Her Boys

by rockmusicplays



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Implied sexy times, The sheriff's name is John until I'm told otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockmusicplays/pseuds/rockmusicplays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her life has become barely-controlled chaos, and Melissa wouldn't have it any other way.</p><p>Takes place about a year after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1181743">I'll Do Something</a> but can be read as a standalone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Boys

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.
> 
> I just wanted an excuse to write a quick bit of Melissa/Sheriff fluff because there isn't enough of it out there. This is purely self-indulgent.

Melissa leaned her hip against the kitchen counter, yawning. She should have been in bed an hour ago, having just come off of a night shift, but she was determined to see the boys off to school. 

It was the first day of their senior year. What started out as maternal sentimentality was quickly becoming necessity as the minutes ticked by.

"Boys!" she shouted, screwing the lid onto a stainless steel travel mug with the Beacon Hills Cyclones logo stamped on the side. "You're going to be late if you don't move your asses!" 

A muffled thud sounded somewhere above her head, followed by a pained groan and the slam of a door. A moment later, footsteps on the stairs told her that at least one of the teenage werewolves was making progress. Isaac loped into the kitchen, reaching around Melissa to grab an apple from the basket on the counter.

"What's the hold up?" Melissa asked. Isaac shrugged, taking a bite of the fruit. He was using the microwave as a mirror, finger combing his still-damp curls into some semblance of order. Melissa rolled her eyes at him over the rim of her mug - herbal tea, because she fully intended to sleep once the house was empty - and took a sip to hide her smile when Isaac pouted in response.

"We need another bathroom," Isaac told her.

"No, you guys just need to get up on time and stop fighting about who's turn it is."

Another set of footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Scott appeared in the kitchen doorway, fumbling with the straps on his backpack that held his lacrosse stick. He and Isaac were both dressed in jeans and sweaters, Scott in a soft-looking grey v-neck and Isaac in blue and white stripes. 

An alarmingly loud crash had all three of them looking towards the ceiling. Melissa sighed. "I don't even want to know," she muttered under her breath.

"I call shotgun," Isaac declared, ducking around Scott to retrieve his own bag and lacrosse stick from where he'd left them in the hallway the night before.

"You can't call shotgun when the driver isn't even here!" Scott whined, folding his arms and leaning against the doorjamb, bag at his feet. Melissa set her mug on the counter and joined him, mirroring his positing and tilting her head so that she could see the upstairs landing.

"He heard me," Isaac replied.

"I heard him!" The voice was followed by the hollow _thunk_ of something heavy banging against a wall and a low curse, and Stiles finally came stumbling in to view, taking the stairs two at a time and nearly laying himself out when the shoulder strap of his backpack snagged on the banister. 

He dropped onto the bottom step and went about lacing up his high tops. Stiles had on one of his customary graphic tees and a plaid button down, wet hair standing up in all directions like rubbing a towel over his head had been the extent of his attempt at grooming himself.

Scott leaned over him to disentangle Stiles' bag from the staircase, whacking him on the back of the head with his own lacrosse stick in the process. Stiles scowled and took a swipe at Scott's leg, which only made Scott laugh.

Isaac slid past Melissa, retrieving two more apples and tossing them wordlessly to the other boys. Stiles snatched his out of the air and jammed it into his mouth without even picking his head up. Apparently walking was complicated, but ninja grabbing projectiles out of the air required no concentration whatsoever. It was comforting, really, knowing that becoming a werewolf hadn't made Stiles any less weird.

Despite the near-constant bickering between Isaac and Stiles that poor Scott was forever mediating, and the general sort of chaos that came from having a trio of adolescent boys living under the same roof, they were a close-knit bunch. Melissa knew part of that stemmed from the fact that they weren't just soon-to-be step siblings. They were pack. Scott's pack.

Considering everything they'd been through in the last two years, it was nothing short of miraculous that the boys had adjusted as well as they had to her and John getting engaged.

After Scott turned Stiles, Melissa had jokingly suggested that she and John start a _My Teenager Is A Werewolf_ support group. They could meet over coffee and trade tips. She hadn't expected him to take her up on it, but John had shown up on her porch the night of Stiles' first full moon, and they'd sat up until dawn comparing notes on all of the strange occurrences they now knew directly involved their children and working out the logistics of parenting a wolf pack.

John started making a habit of dropping by the house whenever she had an afternoon off, and they would sit at Melissa's kitchen table until Scott and Isaac got home from school. After a few weeks of either of them failing to mention the boys or the pack in anything but passing during their chats, John had asked her if she was ready to let him take her out on a real date. _Some place with a wine list and a dress code_ , he'd said. Melissa found herself agreeing before she'd even had a chance to process what that would mean for the friendship they'd built since the night they were almost ritually sacrificed together.

John made reservations at a nice Italian place downtown, complete with linen table cloths and those little tea light candles. They both ordered pizza and beer, and Melissa knew that that was it. She was done for.

The Sheriff was everything Scott's father wasn't. He was warm and open. He made her laugh. He made her feel capable and competent, both as a woman and as a mother. And he made her feel beautiful. Even when she had cheese dangling off of her chin.

Neither of them had come into this without considerable baggage. An alcoholic ex-husband and a dead wife were obstacle enough without adding the threat of John losing his job (thanks to the aforementioned ex no less), and the stress of dealing with the aftermath of the Darach and the Nogitsune. But they had persevered.

If the waking nightmare that Beacon Hills had become had taught them anything, it's that life was far too short. So at the end of the school year, they'd put their respective houses up for sale and bought a bigger place, knowing full well that even with college only a year away the boys would be sticking close to home. Scott was the Alpha, and the town was his to protect. He and his Beta's would be back every chance they got. 

John was able to remain Sheriff. Getting the case against him thrown out was the first decent thing Rafael McCall had done since letting Scott move back in with her. Melissa knew he wasn't happy about her and John, but he had gone back to Sacramento without comment. His relationship with his son was tenuous at best, and insulting John wasn't going to do anything to improve on that.

Their engagement was a new development, the ring an unfamiliar weight on her finger. Melissa toyed absently with the small stone, watching John snake his way through the mass of teenager in the front hall, holding his tie in one hand.

Melissa's favorite thing about the house was the ground floor master suite off of the living room. It offered them some privacy - not that any of the boys would come anywhere near their bedroom after the incident at the Stilinski house over Christmas - and a quiet place to hole up when the pack was over. They had initially been meeting up at Derek's loft, but after Jackson's sudden return from England at the start of summer, everyone had taken to hanging out at the McCall-Stilinski residence.

They'd given the boys free reign of the basement. Most of the Stilinskis' furniture had ended up down there, along with Scott and Stiles' collection of gaming systems and a second-hand pool table John had gotten off of one of his deputies. Lydia, as it turned out, was an absolute shark. She'd been teaching the wolves and Kira how to play, and it made for some very entertaining evenings. As hard as they tried, supernatural abilities were no match for Lydia's brain when anything resembling math was involved.

John had started referring to the basement as the Wolf Den once the rest of the pack started hanging around, and no amount of complaining from Stiles could get him to stop. Derek thought it was hilarious. 

Like Allison, he'd taken to spending more and more time at the house now that things had started to settle down a little. Melissa strongly suspected that Derek was hanging around for one Beta in particular, but since both parties seemed to be completely oblivious for the moment, she was staying out of it.

"Shouldn't you be gone already?" John asked, glancing at his watch. The teens immediately began talking over one another in response, and he waved a hand to shush them. "I can see this is going to be a fun year." He shot Melissa an exasperated look, which she returned with an _I-don't-know-what-you-were-expecting_ shrug.

There were more raised voices and some good-natured shoving as the boys finally made their way towards the front door.

"Um, goodbye?" John said pointedly. 

"Bye, Dad," Stiles replied, elbowing Isaac out of his way and swinging the door open. "Melissa," he added, waiving.

"See you guys after tryouts," Scott said, while Isaac settled for a nod and a grin before the three of them tumbled out the door.

"And at least try to stay out of trouble, okay?" Melissa called after them.

"Yes, Mom," they chorused. 

Melissa huffed out a surprised laugh, watching them scamper off the porch and across the lawn to Stiles' Jeep. "How is it they manage to be rude and endearing at the same time?"

John snorted, threading his tie under the collar of his uniform shirt. "How was your shift?" he asked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him.

"Long." Melissa muffled a yawn against his shoulder. "Slow nights are the worst. They make me nervous." The hospital was right up there with the high school and the Sheriff's station as a frequent location for supernatural trouble. At least when the ER was busy, Melissa was too distracted to think about how quiet things had been lately. The next crisis was always lurking somewhere up ahead, and she'd spent most of the night jumping every time the doors opened, expecting it to be one of the kids.

"I know exactly how you feel." John pressed a kiss against the top of her head. "But they mostly seem to know what they're doing these days. They'll be okay."

" _Mostly_ seem to know what they're doing? That's comforting." Melissa placed her palms against John's chest, looking up at him and frowning.

John gave her a rueful smile. "They were exceptionally talented at getting in to trouble long before they were werewolves, Mel. I'll take mostly."

"I miss Scott getting in to the kind of trouble I could ground him for."

"It hasn't been all bad," John said quietly.

If Scott and Stiles hadn't gotten mixed up in all of this werewolf business, Stiles would be wasting away in a hospital bed right now instead of starting his last year of high school. Derek had told Scott that the bite was a gift, and for the first time Melissa was inclined to agree with him.

"You're right. We wouldn't have Stiles. Or Isaac. Or us, probably."

"And that's worth losing a little sleep over." 

Melissa wound the loose ends of John's tie around her hands and pulled him down for a kiss. The Sheriff had a few exceptional talents of his own, and this was definitely one of them. With school and lacrosse to keep the boys out of the house, Melissa was looking forward to there being a lot more of it in her future. If the hold he had on her hips was any indication, John was thinking the same thing.

John slid a hand up the back of her shirt, fingers a gentle pressure against her skin. Melissa released his tie, arms coming up to circle his neck so that she could press herself against him, letting his warmth seep through the thin material of her scrubs.

After a few long, wonderful minutes, Melissa reluctantly pulled away. "You need to go to work," she said breathlessly. "And I need to shower. And sleep." John made a noise of protest, and Melissa rose up on her toes to silence him with a quick peck on the lips.

"Five more minutes?" he tried.

"Don't tempt me," Melissa replied, taking hold of his wrists and prying his hands loose.

John sighed dramatically, turning away from her to fix his tie. Melissa retreated into the kitchen, digging through her bag for the danish she'd picked up at their favorite coffee shop on the way home. 

Sneaking sugar-filled pastry past Stiles was no easy feat, but luckily for John, his son had been too distracted this morning to pick up on the scent of cherries and cream cheese hiding beneath the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

John was shrugging his jacket on when Melissa brought the small paper sack and his travel mug over to him. "Is that what I think it is?" He eyed the crumpled square of paper hopefully.

"I figured today qualified as a special occasion," she replied, pressing both items into his hands.

"Thank you."

"Just be sure to destroy the evidence. I'm in no hurry for another lecture, no matter how well-meaning," Melissa instructed. John laughed, balancing the danish carefully on top of his mug so that he could dig his sunglasses and keys out of his jacket pocket.

"I've gotten pretty good at covering my tracks."

"If I had to deal with those big sad eyes every time I ate junk food, I'd get good at being sneaky, too."

"Give it a little more time, and you probably will," John told her, laughing again at the look of horror on her face. "On the plus side, he is a pretty good cook. Even with his weird tofu obsession."

"Whatever to happened to 'I'm the parent, and I make the rules'?" Melissa groaned.

"Have you met my kid?"

She hummed thoughtfully. "How long do you think we can use Christmas as ammunition against him before it loses effect?"

"Well, it was Scott who couldn't look either of us in the eye for a month," John replied. "But you may want to keep that in mind the next time you decide to order Chinese."

"Noted. Now get, before you end up being late, too."

~ ~ ~

As it always did on the days when she didn't have to go back in to work that night, Melissa's alarm went off at one. Sleep mask still in place, she fumbled for the snooze bar, only to have someone else beat her to it. Lifting a corner of her mask, she peered blearily up at John.

"Hey. Uh, what are you doing home? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," John replied, taking off his jacket and setting it on the chair beside their dresser. "I just decided to take a late lunch."

"Hmm. Well, I hate to tell you this, but this isn't the kitchen," Melissa said, tossing her mask onto the nightstand. 

John smirked, adding his tie and holster to the pile on the chair. "I wasn't planning on eating."

"Oh. In that case..." Melissa reached over to hook a finger in John's belt loop, tugging him towards the bed. "How much time do we have?"

"About forty-five minutes."

"I can work with that."


End file.
